Victory From the Rooftop
by FoxGlade
Summary: A single demon celebrated the end of the Second World War, and a single angel celebrated with him.


Victory From the Rooftop

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As a rule, demons generally fully approved of war, violence and really any kind of sin. So as a rule, no demon would be expected to celebrate the end of the Second World War

But then again, Crowley tended to be the exception to a fair lot of rules. So he felt no compulsion to stop his activities when he found his way onto the roof of a darkened apartment building, intending to watch the fireworks display above London, hope for a few more decades of peace and get blind drunk.

-

As a rule, angels generally detest demons, Love Thy Enemy aside. So as a rule, no angel would be expected to ever seek the company of a demon with any intention other than to smite him.

But then again, Aziraphale was not your average angel. So he didn't think to discontinue his little search for a certain demon around the London area; he knew that Crowley was there somewhere. And when he did find him…

"You're late," Crowley stated without moving his gaze from the explosions of colour above them. He was lying on his back with his legs dangling off the roof of the three storey building. Aziraphale stood a little distance away, momentarily unsure of what to do.

"I couldn't find you," he replied just as neutrally. Crowley gave a half sigh, half hiss.

"Well hurry up, angel," he said, something like exasperation in his voice. "The fireworks won't last forever, you know."

"The wine will," Aziraphale said with a small smile as he settled down next to the demon. Sure enough, Crowley produced a bottle of some wine or another and handed it to the angel. They passed the bottle back and forth for an hour or so under the fireworks, slowly getting more smashed as the night wore on. Soon enough, they both felt intoxicated enough to safely discuss what had brought them both here.

"Crowley," Aziraphale started. "You didn' start this, did you?"

Crowley shook his head. "Nah," he replied, anger in his voice, "this was all human." He snorted suddenly. "Humans. Ha! They're amazin' things, really. All this…" He waved an arm around at the broken and blackened buildings surrounding them. "To think that humans go to all this trouble just to make a point! Make a demon proud, it would."

Aziraphale studied his company. Crowley didn't look proud, that was for certain. He looked angry, and almost… sad? Surely not.

"You're not proud though, righ'?" The angel asked suddenly, seeking confirmation.

Crowley shook his head. "Nah," he repeated. "Don' know why… maybe your good has infla.. inful… spread to me," he finished. Then, as if realizing what he'd just said, he looked Aziraphale in the eye and added, "Don' tell anyone, 'kay? Otherwise I'll ged in trouble. Y'know, can' have the bad guy goin' good."

Aziraphale nodded. "Won' tell anyone, promise," he said. "Just askin' though, 'cause I don' think I could be your frien' anymore if you were proud of… of that." The thought made him sober up almost instantly. He sat up and stared out towards Buckingham Palace, across the river. The view was magnificent. "Oh God Crowley," he began, tears welling in his eyes. The demon, seeing this, sobered as well and reached out and laid a hand on his companion's arm.

"Don't worry, 'Ziraphale," he said uncertainly – whatever his area of expertise may have been, comforting was certainly not it. "It's over now."

The angel turned to him, his eyes brimming with tears. "It's not!" he sobbed. "They're humans, Crowley, it's going to happen again, and again, and I can't stop them!" He gave a low choking noise and unexpectedly threw his arms around Crowley and buried his face in his shoulder.

The two stayed like that, Aziraphale sobbing quietly into Crowley's shirt, Crowley awkwardly trying to soothe his friend, arms around each other, for quite some time. The fireworks had long since stopped, and the sky turned dark once more, before Aziraphale scooted back and said with a sniff, "Sorry. Don't know what came over me."

Crowley shook his head. "The war came over you," he said softly. "I was there, angel, I saw what happened. Humans truly scare me sometimes," ha added, so quietly that Aziraphale questioned whether it had been said at all.

"It was just…" The angel took a shuddering gulp of air. "The ash was always falling, and you could always smell…" He brushed away more tears and moved up against Crowley again. The demon could fell him shivering. "And here, the bombs and the sirens and all that death…" He was shaking now.

"Hey." Aziraphale didn't respond. "_Hey_," he said with a bit more force. His friend looked at him. "Maybe it will happen again, but not now. It's over for now. And maybe you won't be able to stop it, but maybe we will together, yeah?" The angel looked at him as if he'd given him a puppy on Christmas day.

"You mean it?" Aziraphale asked a little breathlessly. "I mean, I know we aren't exactly friends, what with the opposite sides and all, but…"

"Yes, I do," Crowley said firmly. He had no idea why he was saying this; something about the sight of fragile Aziraphale, shaking and tear streaked, made him want to punch a demon in the face and save a kitten. He pulled the angel against his chest and rested his head on his friend's shoulder. "I really do."

Aziraphale gave him a small, shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless, and Crowley felt a stirring of something in his chest. Something akin to pride. Oh well, at least some sin was to be committed by him this night.

And they drank and they talked of less serious matters and then they drank some more, until they wandered on home, utterly smashed and altogether glad that the war was over.


End file.
